What’s become of those vast verdant black forests?
Tangled thatches hiding smiling snatches
Great wiry springy mattresses
Moist and musky
A mouthful of beard
Tickling naked nose and lips
The Brazilians first mowed the downy wild hairs
Trimming and shaping a woman’s wilderness into a
Playboy and porn sparked an orgy of
Erogenous pubic hair eradication
The rising Mons Veneris beams
Moonlight back into
Heavily browed eyes
Waiting for death.
The darkness clutching.
Seconds turning to hours.
Flak jacket soaked,
from heat ... from fear.
A single drop of sweat
trickles down his spine.
Biting his lip.
down his throat.
He strangles back a scream.
The orders finally come.
Words penetrating blackness.
turns to horror.
He screams, “Fuck it”
charging forward through the terror,
What will they tell his Mother?
Happy May Day, all you pinkos!
It was much like any other time: the people
were anxious and the youths lusted; youth
being not yet of the people, and the people
not yet the aged, who are, or were, beyond
even anxiety. I argued outside class with
my favorite teacher, the communist/socialist
long term substitute (Our original teacher
had suffered, or been awarded, a heart attack
from which he would grudgingly recover.) who
claimed to have once challenged a former
astronaut to a game of parachute chicken
in an election year, Mr. Lavery. My point was
that there always have been wars, always will,
that the difference lies only in the technology
we inflict upon one another. His argument was
that, for the first time in the history of our sad,
funny species, the stakes were our entire world.
Thirty years later, I concede the point.